Isaac Lahey: Transman Extraordinaire
by Genim Stilinski
Summary: Snapshots into the life of a transgenedered Isaac Lahey. (No longer updated here. Can be found on AO3)
1. Dammit, Uterus, Stop Shedding

A/N: I was struck with an intense need for trans*Isaac fics, and couldn't find any. I posted a request to teenwolfsearch on LJ and am waiting to see if anyone has any to rec. In the meantime, I've decided to start my own series of snapshot fics. As a trans* individual, some of this comes from my own experiences, but some of this is pure conjecture, and not meant to offend anyone with any inaccuracies or differences in experiences.

Also, I am in the process of working on my Teen Wolf Big Bang, so I am uncertain of how regular updates to this will be.

cross-posted to AO3

* * *

Isaac slipped into the teacher's bathroom on the second floor without notice, much to his relief, during the passing period between English and Chemistry. It was far easier going to the bathroom in here than in the men's room, since he usually would get looks when he left the solitary stall after taking a piss. Generally speaking, guys didn't understand guys who sat down to pee, let alone judgmental teenage guys, who liked to pick on the scrawny Lahey kid, since his father, the (former) swim coach, hadn't seemed to care, and the other teachers didn't seem to notice. Even in Beacon Hills, this little place in Cali that not-so-secretly prided itself on its love of The Gays, there were still bullies, and they somehow always seemed to find their way to him.

Oh, well. It had made it easier to explain away the bruises that his father used to leave on his skin, back when the man was alive. Back before he was a werewolf.

He locked the door behind him, and took a seat, just like he always did. He did his business, wiped quickly, and didn't think about how he wished his body was different. Isaac had learned long ago that that line of thought was unproductive, and only made him angry. Or sad, sometimes, depending on how his day had been, and what time of the month-

Crap.

He pulled the toilet paper out of the toilet just long enough to see the deep red substance that streaked across it before he dropped it back down and pulled his backpack over to search for supplies.

Frantically, Isaac dug through both pockets, throwing stuff to the floor. His binder slid across and hit the door, but he was pretty sure no one would have heard it through all the noise in the hallway. Papers were accidentally set in the puddle by the sink, but there wasn't much he could do about it now. Reaching the bottom of his bag, he found the little baggie he kept hidden with the Advil, but after searching again, he found no tampons.

Double crap.

It was still morning, and he knew his flow was really heavy on the first day. There was no way he could go all day with toilet paper in his pants (thank goodness he was at least wearing shorts and not boxers today), and he couldn't go to the nurse without a teacher's note, which, from Harris, would be all but impossible to get. He knew that his options were slim.

Looking at his lightwash jeans, Isaac lamented the fact that he couldn't have picked something darker to wear today. Or, you know, remembered to check the calendar. There was the possibility that if he changed into his lacrosse shorts, the red of them would hide it if he leaked, but there were still the other werewolves to think about, who would smell it on him. Usually when he was on he'd just spray some of his Axe into the crotch of his pants to hide the scent, and no one was any wiser.

At least there was that. He had a can of body spray in his gym locker, which he could get to before going to lunch. Maybe they'd notice that he'd reapplied it, but it wasn't something so out of the ordinary that they'd comment on it. Jackson, maybe, but he was in London, and no longer here to be a douchebag.

He needed to act quickly if he wanted to get to class on time to spare him from the infamous detention session with Harris. Being here even longer with his current…predicament wasn't ideal.

Wadding up some toilet paper into a makeshift pad, he began to tidy himself up, readjusting his clothing to be as comfortable as one could be with TP between their legs. He washed his hands before cupping them under the faucet for some water to take his Advil with. He barely managed to get his backpack back together and dart across the hall into his classroom before the bell rang.

"Mr. Lahey," Mr. Harris singsonged in that way that made everyone's skin crawl, "Please find your seat quickly. We have a lot to do today."

Looking around, he saw that the only seat available was with Greenburg. While ordinarily something he'd lament, today it could only work to his advantage. Right in front of them was Allison and Scott. And, much as he'd hate to have to explain it to her later, Allison would help. She could be discrete.

As Harris droned on about something (Isaac wasn't really listening), he pulled out a sheet of paper and folded it into the size for a note. Usually, if he were going to pass notes, he'd write on the paper first, and then they'd have more room to converse. Not today. He needed Allison to see it quickly without drawing Scott's attention. So, he waited until the last fold to write his message, and then wrote her name on the outside so she wouldn't assume it was for Scott and pass it to him without looking at it.

After a few minutes, Scott ended up leaning across the aisle to talk to Stiles, and Isaac took his chance. He leaned forward and placed the note on the table beside Allison's elbow.

* * *

Allison took the note in hand before chancing a glance backwards. She knew that it was Isaac behind her, but he'd never passed her a note before, so she had to check.

His pleading glance was enough to make her return to the note to figure out what had him in distress.

_Hey, Allison, do you have any tampons/pads to spare? I forgot I'd need them today._

Her eyes widened slightly as she read the note, as she hadn't realized that Isaac was a woman. Or, born a woman. The shock didn't last long as the memory of the horror she felt the day at her last school when she forgot her stuff, and didn't have any friends to ask to borrow from came back to her. They didn't even have dispensers in the ladies room there, and she was willing to bet that Isaac didn't want to risk going into the ladies room here to buy one.

Slowly, she used her foot to push her purse backwards along to floor to him as she took her pencil to reply. She checked to make sure Scott was still looking away before reaching behind her to put the note back on his desk.

* * *

Isaac unfolded the note, shielding it from Greenburg who tried to peak.

_Inside zipper pocket. You can take them all. I don't need them today._

He breathed a sigh of relief before using his foot to hook the strap of her purse and pull it up to a level he could grab it. Fortunately, Greenburg returned to staring off in the distance, and no one else was looking, so he slipped the three tampons he found in the purse into his jacket pocket before returning it gently to the floor beside Allison. He'd wait until this class was over (the toilet paper would hold out that long), absentmindedly thinking that he'd have to remember to thank her later.


	2. All Hale Cora, Kind and Cool

2004

In addition to his father's swim team, Camden tried out for the sport he _really_ wanted to play: Lacrosse. But, he needed some work if he wanted to make first line, so the coach set him up with the team's star player, Derek Hale. Isabella had heard his brother talking about 'that Hale boy' as if he wasn't someone that he liked that much, but after he and Derek started training, it sounded like that changed. Guess he'd get to see for himself, though, since Camden had offered to bring him along.

It was nice when Camden brought him places. Most people didn't really get why any teenager in their right mind would willingly let their younger sibiling tag along, but Camden wasn't any normal big brother. Camden took care of him, and treated him nicely.

Besides, he also mentioned that Derek was going to be bringing his little sister. He wondered absentmindedly if she would like him as he put on the clothes that Camden bought him (the ones he stashed in the attic and bought for his little brother because their parents were forever in denial that their little girl did not exist). He didn't have time to wonder for long, as Camden ushered him out the door and into the beat up Toyota that both boys had grown quite fond of.

Isabella reached beneath the seat for the little bag of neutral hair elastics that his brother kept for him, selected a brown one, and did his best to finger-comb his curls into a low ponytail. He had some ribbons and bows in the house, a few hair elastics with little plastic flowers or ladybugs on them, but nothing that didn't draw a lot of attention, or look weird with the clothes he liked to wear. Camden, meanwhile, turned on the classic rock station and then cranked down his window. It was hot out, but the AC didn't work too well, so they needed to let the heat out.

(Years later, the memories Isaac had of riding around in his brother's truck with the windows down would be among his favorites.)

When they reached the school, Isaac hopped out of the passenger seat and pulled his brother's lacrosse stick from behind their seats, while Camden grabbed his bag from the back. Derek and his sister were already on the field, passing the ball between their two sticks, and suddenly Isaac felt a little left out, as he didn't have a stick for himself. He handed the one he was holding to his brother, who gave him a rough pat on the shoulder in return.

They made their way out to the Hales, who had halted their game of catch to greet them.

"Alright, kiddo, this is Derek," Camden motioned to the other boy, who gave him a curt nod and 'hi', "And this is-" Camden drew a blank, so the girl stepped forward, offered her hand, and her name.

"Hello! I'm Cora! What's your name?"

And for the first time, he didn't know what to say. At school, he had no choice. Every teacher, every year, always called him Isabella. The other kids called him 'gross' and 'freak', and he never bothered to explain himself to them. If one of them started it, they'd all join, and he didn't stand a chance. It was like losing at Othello. But here was this girl, this cute girl with dimples, long, brown hair, and a lacrosse stick, giving him a choice.

"Isaac," He said, taking her hand and shaking it nervously, "I'm Isaac."

She smiled at him again, and pulled him along to where she had yet another stick and some balls that they could play with. He'd never gotten the chance to really do more than pretend to shoot the ball when his brother had him carry the stick since his father wouldn't let him go out for any sports, so Cora showed him how to hold it properly, and how to aim. Soon enough, he was catching what she shot off to the side, mimicking the running and jumping that their brothers were practicing. It was Camden's weak point, but he seemed to be doing really well. Maybe it helped that there weren't other players on the field to worry about body checking.

After a while the two of them abandoned their game in favor of watching their brothers from the bleachers. The metal burned against his hands and through his basketball shorts, but he didn't really mind. Cora sat to his left, hissing at the burn against her skin, and Isabe-

Isaac frowned in sympathy.

"So, Isaac," she caught his attention from where it had momentarily wandered, "Why do you keep your hair so long?" She looked genuinely curious, something that he hadn't heard from other kids since kindergarten, when they were a little too young to have pre-formed opinions of things that were out of the ordinary.

"My dad wants it that way." He mumbled, taking his burning hands off the bench and setting them in his lap.

"But, why," She inquired, turning to face him completely.

"He and mom think I'm a girl, but I'm not," He turned his attention back to the field, where Camden and Derek seemed to be playing a full, one-on-one game.

She slid over and nudged him with her shoulder, recapturing his attention.

"Parents are stupid sometimes," She informed him, and nothing more was said between the two of them about it. Instead, they talked about comics, and she pointed out all the little technique things that Camden and Derek were either doing right or failing at.

When it was time to leave, he was reluctant, but the two older boys promised that they'd make bringing the younger two along a regular thing. It seemed to have been Derek's idea, and Isaac was really grateful for it. Maybe 'that Hale boy' wasn't so bad after all. He was kind of like Camden.

The two Lahey boys slid back into the truck, sweaty and warn out, but all was good.

"Hey, Isaac," the boy took a moment to respond, but when he looked over, Camden grinned, "Congrats on finally picking out a name, little brother."


	3. In Which Isaac is Contemplative

Power is an interesting thing. Those who had it in abundance were likely to either take advantage of it, or take it for granted. Those without often understood its importance far more than the latter of the two. Isaac knew all too well what it was like to be without power. He knew the power of his father's will as he begged for a reprieve from the freezer, or the power of his father's hand as the back of it collided with his face. He knew the power of nature, and how it meant that all things came to an end, namely, his brother at the will of a bullet, and his mother through her subsequent alcoholism, and the tendency to forget she shouldn't drive afterwards. He knew the power of words, the ones from the Marines in their dress uniforms, and the Sheriff with his somber face and well-meaning hand on Isaac's shoulder, as they came to the Lahey's door.

But the thing about power was that it could shift. Vaccines could be administered, and governments could fall…All in the name of shifting power to favor one entity over another, or at the least, even the odds. The bite is a gift, so Derek said, and if it was anything like what he made it out to be, then maybe it was worth it.

Maybe his dad couldn't hurt him anymore.

Maybe he could protect the people that he cared about.

But, it wasn't a guarantee. This Derek was so different from the boy he'd known about six years ago. The fire saw to that. Isaac saw the story on the news: 8 die in tragic house fire. They didn't give names, but he was pretty sure that Cora was among them.

This Derek didn't have a little sister anymore to drag out to the lacrosse field at the high school, or much of anything or anyone. Behind his warm, extended hand and the barest flicker of a smile lay a man who'd been knocked down a peg or two (or 20) in the cruelest of ways. Hell, he wasn't even sure if Derek recognized him. But, here he was, Derek Hale, his brother's personal lacrosse coach/friend, offering him a hand to get out of this grave he found himself standing in.

(And the metaphor was not lost on him.)

It didn't take long to think over what Derek was offering him. The thought of it was incredible…becoming strong, fast, enhanced…and then being a part of something, having friends (maybe), or at least one or more someones that he could turn to when his dad was…

He wanted it.

And he found himself standing before the older man, Derek's jaw was elongating, giving way to fangs that glistened in the lowlight. He was there, telling Isaac to take his shirt off, and suddenly, it wasn't so easy.

"Can't you bite through the shirt?" the boy asked, removing his jacket. Derek looked annoyed, but he complied. It hurt- burned like nothing he'd ever felt before, but he knew it would be worth it. Some pain now would spare him later.

Isaac, for all he liked to believe that Derek didn't remember and didn't know, wasn't entirely convinced that Derek didn't know full well why he'd want to keep his shirt on.

All he could hope for now is that his father wouldn't see that he ruined a perfectly good shirt.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for the interest, guys, but this story will no longer be updated on . You can find it on AO3: /works/850325/chapters/1625498


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